So, the following weekend, I headed to the library and checked out several books on dog breeds. I spent hours researching breed characteristics, grooming needs, training tips, and compatibility. I finally decided that I wanted either a shih tzu, pekingese, or a pomeranian. The following Thursday, when the Advertiser was delivered, I scoured it for available dogs. Much to my excitement, I found a male pekingese pup, immediately available for $200. True to their word, my parents let me call and arrange to meet him. As soon as I met the sweet boy, we all knew he would be coming home with us. We named him Casey, and he was the adorable lap dog I had wished for. He was a good boy and tolerated me constantly doting over him. I was absolutely in love with him.
Tragically, he died just a few months later and my heart was shattered. Seeing how distraught I was, my mom found a cute little shih tzu puppy. He was another adorable bundle of energy, obsessed with any kind of shining light and empty plastic bottles. We named him Zigiferd Marley Oreo Benz , but just called him Ziggy. He let me dress him in doll clothes, put bows in his hair, and any other ridiculousness I subjected him to. When he was just over two, I found a beagle pup and begged asked my parents if I could have him. I used my personal savings to pay for him. On July 5, 1997, we brought him home. Since then, I have always had more than one dog. Until now.
For 17 years and 1 day, I have had the pleasure of referring to my dogS. On July 6th, we said goodbye to our boxer, Slevin. He was a dog bounding with a frenetic disposition from the very beginning. In all honesty, he was an awkward addition to our family. When we brought him home, our first boxer, Mackie, wouldn't go near him. It took a month before they would sleep within five feet of one another. When he got excited, Slevin could easily jump with all four paws six feet off the ground. He had an affinity for pooping unlike anyone I've ever met. We repeatedly joked that he had an iron stomach, as he ate the strangest objects. The week before Danica's first birthday, he ate 40 uninflated green balloons. It took a week, but he managed to gleefully expel all of them. Over the course of his life, Slevin continued to eat diapers, crayons, paper products, entire loaves of bread, whole bananas, a one pound bag of Hershey's Kisses (giving a whole new meaning to Hershey squirts), and several random toys. Amazingly, though, he never destroyed a single shoe. 
In a way, I think I had expected that Slevin's unique interest in eating non-food items would be the cause of his eventual death. Instead, it was progressing Cushing's Syndrome, and likely metastatic cancer, that had me grasping for straws in an attempt to prolong his life. Unfortunately, these two big C's are forces greater than my stubbornness. Prolonging his life only meant prolonging his misery. I am grateful that Mike helped me see the foolishness of my attempts. Together, in a hectic animal emergency room, Mike and I held our Puddy as his body was released of pain. And now, we have only one dog in our home. Our sweetheart, Dominoe, is relishing in being our only, but I wince every time that missing "S" resonates.
